She Will Rise
by Tinker Bows
Summary: Loki/OFC. After The Avengers. Loki and Thanos thwart Asgard. Meanwhile, two new Avengers have been added to the team: a boy spider, and a young woman who, by all means, does not exist. When Thor escapes to Midgard, Loki is sent to retrieve him, pitting him against the assembled Avengers.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: The Battle for Asgard/Prologue**

"_No more sorrow,  
__I've paid for your mistakes.  
__Your time is borrowed,  
__Your time has come to be replaced."_

No More Sorrow, Linkin Park

O~*o~*~o*~O

**A disclaimer: Let it be stated that I do not own any of Marvel's works, characters, et cetera. But it would be cool if I did.**

**A warning: Scenes of violence, torture, angst, abuse, and sometimes graphic descriptions of injuries. This is, however, a romance at the deepest roots, so be advised that there shall also be moments of fluff and comfort.**

**Warnings will be placed on chapters that contain any of those heavy themes listed above.**

**Rated "T" because I, as a teenager, have read worse, and I have no doubt that other individuals in my age group can handle this tidbit of homemade literature.**

**An author's note: I used my creative license and bent the rules a bit, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you all don't mind too much, and I certainly hope you enjoy!**

O~*o~*~o*~O

_This blood shall never come out of my cape_, Loki thought mournfully, plucking at the green material. What a shame, too: it was his favorite.

The battle for Asgard raged all around him. A group of Chitauri held the Defender at bay. Skeletal faces grinned fiendishly as they flowed by in a river of gory violence. A leviathan swam swiftly through the air overhead, replenishing Thanos's ranks.

"Are you ready to claim your throne, Jotun?"

Loki started as a voice snarled by his ear. Not many people could sneak up on him, but the titan of death certainly could. Thanos's crimson eyes burned bright with malevolence and bloodlust as he watched the carnage unfold.

Respectfully, Loki bowed his head. Fear squirmed in the pit of his stomach like a ball of worms. "I am." He felt proud that his reply did not quiver.

Thanos grunted approvingly, his smile evil and excited and terrifying all at once. "Then let us steal it away from the pompous Asgardians."

Thanos strolled into the thick of the melee, smiting anyone who dared to cross his path. Loki followed as closely behind as he dared.

He tried to swallow correctly, but his mouth had suddenly gone dry, like the barrens of Muspelheim. He passed a ferocious Sif, her sword flashing silver in the air. His eyes met hers for a sliver of a moment. Hers burned with an intense, passionate hatred, shot through with a surprising amount of vulnerable betrayal and accusation.

The trickster felt guilt for the first time since the beginning of this ordeal.  
_  
There is no time for contrition_, The Voice in the back of his mind hissed venomously. _Have these people treated you with respect? Have they spared even a moment of remorse for you?  
_  
No.

No, they had ridiculed and ostracized him from the very beginning. His jaw clenched with the reassurance of his motive.

O~*o~*~o*~O

They found Odin in the throne room. The old king was alone, slumped in his chair. He clutched at his chest with a pained expression on his drawn, haggard face. When he caught sight of the two intruders, he clutched his staff and stood shakily.

Loki noticed Odin wheezing. Half of the trickster wondered grimly if the king would succumb to the Odinsleep again. The other half hoped desperately that his elder would.

Thanos smirked, ascending the stairs. Odin stood, proud and tall, and glared with loathing at the enemy of his kingdom.

"Allfather," Thanos purred silkily. "You have grown weathered since last we encountered each other."

"But no weaker," Odin assured, his jaw stiff and raised defiantly.

Thanos chose a different tactic. "Your kingdom falls around you," he murmured menacingly, "and yet you do nothing. It strikes a note of curiosity with me; perhaps you do not fight because you cannot anymore?"

Odin's one good eye closed in tired resignation, and he sighed. "What do you want, Thanos?"

His opposite smirked. "A new king."

O~*o~*~o*~O

The Battle for Asgard ended as quickly as it had begun.

The streets had fallen silent after Odin had been locked in the deep recesses of the castle. A quiet resistance ensued, but Loki could sense the beginnings of despair welling in the atmosphere. Someday, he knew, they would no longer resist his rule. He would be accepted, supported, idolized, revered, adored….

But, of course, there was one wrinkle in the otherwise flawless plan.

Neither Frigga nor Thor was anywhere to be found.

Thanos would dig a trench into the marble floor if his pacing continued. "You're sure you can't find your idiot brother anywhere?"

Loki glanced downwards, brow furrowed in a deep "v". "Thor is not my brother," he answered sullenly.

A gentle voice echoed somewhat triumphantly through the room. "I daresay you won't find him." Frigga stepped forward, through the double doors. She heavily favored her left leg, and her dress was ripped and bloodied. Her light mahogany hair had been ripped from its tidy bun and was tangled and matted against her shoulders. Nonetheless, she smiled wanly.

Thanos cocked his head to the side, hands folded behind his back. "Queen Frigga," he greeted in a spine-chilling, cold voice. Loki's heart clenched in momentary fear for his once-mother. "You are still a wisp of a woman, and as lovely as ever."

Frigga shook off the flattery, her chin tilted upwards in smug defiance. "You won't find Thor," she reiterated.

Thanos's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And why not?"

"I have sent him away."

He advanced on her in a moment's breadth, and his long, spider-like fingers wrapped around the queen's pale throat. "Where to?"

Loki spoke for the first time as he watched the exchange. His revelation was almost as quiet as the rustle of robes against skin, and yet it seemed to fill the entirety of the room. "To Midgard, of course."

O~*o~*~o*~O

Perhaps Tony should have recognized the telltale signs of another fantastic visit from the extraterrestrial blond hammer-slinger that was Thor. The sudden change in weather and its penchant for thunder and lightning should have been a tip off.

But no. Tony did not recognize the clues as they were. Maybe it was because he was already heading down the "drunk" road, and having trouble making his motor skills work correctly.

And if his motor skills were impaired, then certainly his cognitive skills were as well.

At any rate, Thor suddenly crashing through a window came as a complete shock to the genius/philanthropist/billionaire/playboy.

And man, did Sparky look like he'd been through hell.

"Man of Iron," Thor exclaimed, his limp and bedraggled blond hair swinging as he desperately clutched Tony's shoulders. A laceration torn across his cheek seeped blood. "I require help."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Take Control**

_"I must become a lion hearted girl,  
Ready for a fight  
Before I make the final sacrifice."  
_

Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up), Florence + the Machine

O~*o~*~o*~O

"I'm not going to screw this up," Anna whispered fiercely. She clenched her fist at her side. "I've waited too long and come too far to fail now."

The young woman kept watch shrewdly from a thicket of bushes beside Stark Tower, waiting for the vehicle to pull up with its load of crisply dressed businessmen.

A chilling, late autumnal breeze whispered in her ear, telling of change and the frosty winter days to come. The gust attempted to mercilessly assail her bare legs. She straightened her navy pencil skirt, indifferent to the cold.

...Any moment now...

A sleek black limo rumbled to a stop in front of the building. Anna stood ramrod straight, fixing a stray strand of brown hair that had squirmed out of her tight, severe bun. She smirked grimly, settling the fluttering butterflies in the pit of her stomach determinedly.

_Integrate_, her voice of reason reminded, _no one will question you if you act like you belong. Don't draw attention. Just act like you belong_.

Integrate.

Easy.

No need to be nervous.

A group of businessmen, dressed to the nines, filed out of the limo like a row of ducklings. Anna waited apprehensively before finally darting out of the shrubbery. She tagged on to the end of their group unnoticed and clutched her prop clipboard close to her chest.

A smirk had to be hidden as she realized that she had successfully infiltrated the building.

As she followed the men inside, she was glad for the self-adhering felt pads she had hastily stuck to the bottoms of her stilettos - making very little noise was absolutely pertinent if she was to continue with her escapade.

The group snaked through the lobby, tangling expertly through the small cliques of people. Anna hardly struggled in keeping up; her movements were calculated with grace and agility. But even her careful maneuvering couldn't prevent others' the stupidity of others.

"Sorry," she snapped gruffly, though it was no fault of hers that the redheaded woman had gotten in her way. Before the woman could respond, Anna pushed past her roughly, catching up to her group right as they entered the elevator.

_That delay almost cost me my chance_, she seethed. She mentally threw daggers at the ginger in nondescript clothes. The woman had been joined by a dark haired man with keen, watchful eyes. As the elevator doors slid shut, Anna watched as the pair - who were vaguely familiar, now that she thought of it - exchanged a whispered conversation. Then the silver doors had shut, and when they opened again, it was the eighth floor and a fresh start.

O~*o~*~o*~O

_Please let him be here_, she mentally begged, _please_.

The conference had been running smoothly for twenty minutes, and there was still no sign of Tony Stark. Where on earth was he? If he didn't arrive, her efforts were for naught.

The doorknob jiggled without warning, interrupting a verbose speech on the economic benefits of selling energy. Tony Stark, clad in dark sunglasses and a rumpled suit, sashayed inside. Anna released a breath that she had been holding and leaned against the wall behind her.

"Well, don't stop on my account," Tony said, waving a hand dismissively. He took a seat at the table. "Please, continue putting everyone to sleep."

O~*o~*~o*~O

"Mr. Stark." Anna took hold of his arm firmly, flashing a wide, appealing smile. "A word about the Avengers, if you please."

Behind the sunglasses, he looked her up and down suspiciously. "No comment."

Her hand on his arm became a restraint, and her grin forced. "I'm not a reporter. And I _insist_."

After a moment of contemplation, the older man appeared to give in, and allowed the other executives to flow past him. He shut the door behind them.

Anna pranced to the end of the table, shimmying out of her blazer to reveal a sleeveless, silken, and very _tight _blouse. She plopped down in one of the chairs, and frowned. "These aren't as comfortable as I would've imagined a millionaire's chairs would be. Are you truly as rich as they say?"

"Well, let's see." His tone was dry. "My pool is filled with hundred dollar bills, and -"

She cut him off. "As I said, I'm here about the Avengers, not to discuss your disgusting amount of money."

"Jarvis, if you could send a few friends," he muttered, then addressed his unwanted guest. "What about the Avengers?"

The young woman lounged in the chair, propping her stiletto-ed feet up on the table. "I want in."

"Sorry, the Avengers group is not an equal opportunity provider. We don't let just _anyone_ sign up."

She cocked a brow as an array of people entered the room; a man with tired, troubled eyes, glasses, and dark curls; a brunet boy who couldn't be older than twenty; and the redhead and the watchful man from the lobby.

"Calling in for reinforcements?" Anna asked innocently, crossing her arms. "I didn't realize that I was such a concern."

"Who is this, Tony?" the redhead hedged in a cautious manner.

"My name is Anastasia, and I'm _hoping _to be an Avenger. But Mr. Stark seems to have a little too much iron in his brain, because I'm getting absolutely nowhere so far."

"Our team is big enough," interjected the vigilant man bluntly. "We don't need you."

"Don't need, or don't want, Hawkeye? That is you, right? You live up to your namesake. I feel like your eyes could cut through me." Anna shuddered mockingly. "I'm _useful_. I want to _help. _Isn't that enough?"

Natasha stepped forward, her hand on her gun. "We're going to have to ask you to – "

Anna sprung up suddenly, leaping atop the table. A knife was drawn from a sheath beneath her skirt and, before any of the Avengers could react, she slashed the blade across her palm. Anna held it out towards the group in front of her, blood dribbling from her hand and splattering on the table.

"That is mahogany," Tony muttered darkly, watching crimson crawl across his polished tabletop.

Bruce was the first one to notice, and he sucked in a shocked breath. "_Your hand_."

"My hand," Anna affirmed, smug.

The severed skin was knitting itself together, as though an invisible force was sewing the laceration shut. A slim, puckered white scar remained as evidence.

"I can do other things, too." The young woman's attention seemed divided as she peered out the window. "I have exceptional hearing. All my other senses are fantastic. I could track someone's scent through a crowded room. I can hear higher frequencies. I have better vision than even you, Cupid. And, I'm a boss when it comes to singing." She turned from the window, smirking, and gazed at each one of them in turn. "But I won't bother you. I'll give you all some time to consider my offer. Until then…" She jumped down from the table. "Toodle-oo."

Moving entirely too fast again, she propelled her body through the nearest window, sending glass flying like shards of painfully sharp confetti.

Natasha dashed to the opening, the others hot on her tail, and watched as Anna flipped through the air and landed nimbly on her feet, bounded into the street, and hailed an oncoming cab. Before climbing inside, she shot a small salute their way.

Then she was gone, with shocked witnesses as the only testaments to her presence.

"That was an eighty foot drop, at least," Natasha fretted. "Nobody could've survived a fall that far. That should've killed her."

"Apparently not, since she's off on her merry way." Tony turned away from the shattered window. _It's always my house_ _that gets a beating_.

"She left a business card." Peter lifted a pink and white card emblazoned with the title "LENNY'S DINER" and an address. Scrawled in tidy red ink were the words:

_**Nine 'o clock tomorrow –don't leave me hanging!**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: "Blasting Past Expectations" Is My Middle Name.**

"_I don't give a damn about my reputation,  
__I've never been afraid of any deviation.  
__And I don't really care if you think I'm strange,  
__I ain't gonna change."_

Bad Reputation, Joan Jett

O~*o~*~o*~O

Natasha ducked inside the diner hesitantly, half expecting to be ambushed as soon as she set foot inside. Damn, how she hated drawing the short straw; last time had seen her standing in line for schwarma for an hour.

Though, of course, this was a very different case.

She surveyed the restaurant until she spotted a delicate hand waving at her, accompanied by a wide, beaming smile. _Anastasia._ Without returning the gesture, Natasha wound between the tables with a stoic expression.

The other girl stuck out like a very, very sore thumb, dressed in a brilliant cerulean dress layered with lace the color of midnight. Her hair was piled atop her head in an intricately tangled nest of braids, and atop the nest sat a shiny blue top-hat no bigger than Natasha's palm. Anastasia's lips were painted a vibrant red that shimmered in the dim light. Glitter tumbled from her lids like teardrops.

Natasha cocked a brow, nonplussed. "What's with the Gaga-esque outfit?" she asked briskly.

"Normalcy is boring. Besides, I tend to let people think what they want. My opinion about myself is the only one that matters in the end." Anastasia pulled a chair closer and patted it. "Sit. Socialize."

After a moment of consideration, Natasha stiffly perched in the chair, feeling uncomfortable and out of place.

"And it's Annie," Anastasia corrected as an afterthought. She folded her hands in front of her, leaning forward eagerly. "So, did I make the cut?"

Natasha blinked at the blinding force of the girl's charisma. Annie was like a miniature sun, a dynamo; it was as though she absorbed all the brightness and beauty in the room and reflected it outwards, enveloping any soul in her path.

But beneath the brilliance lurked an edge – a knife obscured in smooth satin sheets – that made a shiver leap up and down Natasha's spine. This girl in front of her…she had her fair share of secrets. They hovered so close to the surface, teasing the Black Widow with their closeness. She wanted to pluck them out and examine them, for any secrets that hid from her were dangerous, threatening, liabilities.

_Leave her be, _her common sense admonished her nature, _the revelation of secrets comes with time. For now, she can keep them. _

"Well…" the red-haired assassin began hesitantly, metering her companion's reaction with care. Tasha's curls quivered like tongues of dancing flames. "SHIELD wants to run some tests first, to make sure you can walk the talk."

Annie melted marginally, her smile drooping like a flower that had just begun to wither. She nodded somberly. "Don't write a check with your mouth that your ass can't cash."

"Something like that." The corner of Tasha's mouth twitched in mild humor. "And eventually we'll have to be sure that we can trust you."

"You can," the brunette vowed, her petite features taking on a lofty expression. She raised her hand, folding her pinkie and thumb inward. "Scout's honor."

"I'm afraid it's going to take a little more than a promise to convince Fury." Tasha squirmed in unease, impatient to return to the tower and _Clint_.

"Fury?" The look on Annie's face was priceless.

"The Director of SHIELD. He had a hand in creating the Avengers." Natasha stopped tactfully. "And that's all you really need to know, for now. At least until we're better acquainted. Be at Stark's Tower by noon tomorrow; you won't have to sneak in this time. We'll give you a ride to a designated location to take the tests."

Natasha stood, beyond ready to leave. Annie shot out of her seat inhumanly fast behind her, making her hand fly reflexively to her hip. The motion caught the attention of nearby patrons of the restaurant, who stared in alarm. Natasha lowered her arm tensely.

"There's a few other things I need to know."

"Like?" Tasha demanded.

"Like, which is bigger: Tony's extensive fortune, or his infamous ego?"

Natasha relaxed, cracking her first and probably last _real _smile of the evening. And because she found the question so amusing, she deigned it with an answer. "Right now, I'd say his fortune; his ego took a few hits after you infiltrated his tower."

Annie snickered smugly. "I figured."

Natasha chewed the inside of her cheek, deliberating, as a question weighed heavily on her tongue. It itched and bothered until she could bear it no longer. "How did you do it?" she asked quietly. "Jump out of the window, I mean."

Annie cocked her head to the side curiously, then winked. "Carefully."

Scoffing in annoyance, Natasha spun on her heel and stormed from the diner. She was not halted this time.

_Spoken like a true smartass. _

_As if we need any more of those. _

O~*o~*~o*~O

"Name?" the agent conducting the interview inquired through gritted teeth.

Annie felt a flash of pride in her own skills. Only ten minutes alone with him, answering his trivial questions with the vaguest responses she could muster, and she already felt him creeping closer to an aneurism.

"Anastasia. But I go by Annie. Or Anna. Stacy. On one occasion someone nicknamed me Streaker, but he was drunk, and so was I, so neither of us were probably in our right minds."

"_Your full name_."

"I don't have one." And that was the truth.

The agent blinked deliberately. Annie could swear that his jugular was trying to pry itself from his throat. "You must," he insisted.

She shrugged. "Apparently not, because I don't."

"What name were you born with?"

"Don't remember."

"What was your father's last name? Your mother's?"

"Can't recall for the latter, and couldn't care less about the former." Yes, his jugular was definitely bulging, and was his temple growing a new heart?

"Birth certificate? Where did you go to school?"

He was clutching at straws, and playing with him had gotten boring, so she decided to take pity on the poor agent. "Look, relax." Annie stared at him calmly. "I don't have any form of identification that I didn't pay to have fabricated by underground scum. I was born at home, and homeschooled. I ran away at a young age. I raised myself. That was so long ago that I don't remember any of the answers you're looking for. I'm sorry." Her tone conveyed no sincerity.

The agent massaged his forehead, lids shut tightly as if he thought that the gesture could make her disappear. "We'll dig up something." He waved his hand desperately. "Now move on. Through that door over there. _Please."_

O~*o~*~o*~O

The Director of SHIELD watched the screen astutely with his remaining eye.

"She has a certain…impressive quality," Agent Maria Hill acknowledged from his right side. Agent Romanoff stood at his left in the otherwise bare and midnight-black room.

In the footage, a laughing Anastasia - _Annie_, whatever - ran through a complicated set of mazes meant to confuse SHIELD recruits, and yet she never hit a dead end. At every fork, every octopus-like tangled of branches, she pointed her nose in the air, sniffed, and took off in the right direction.

Every. Single. Time.

Fury could not comprehend it; rather, he could, but he chose not to. This untrained civilian had bested the best of his agents.

Each obstruction in the halls was met with unerring calmness and superhuman agility.

The screen flipped to a different scene. She sat in a white room, lounging in a chair like a sunbathing lion, while a man in lab coat opened unmarked containers.

"And this one?" he prompted.

"Vanilla. Duh," she answered, boredom etched in every line of her body.

He turned to a different jar.

The lid had barely been unscrewed when Annie's face contorted in disgust. "Uck. Oranges."

The situation wouldn't be extraordinary if the two hadn't been a football field away.

With the touch of a finger from Hill, the screen flicked to a different scenario: the hand-to-hand combat assessment.

Every touch of grace had all but disappeared as Annie knocked around a handful of his top notch fighting instructors like they were gnats who had gotten on her last nerve. She fought in the manner of a child on the schoolyard, using brute force and speed to take down her opponents. Gritty. Unrefined.

Fury's jaw clenched and unclenched. "What have we found on her?"

"…Nothing, sir," Hill answered finally. The verdict made his stomach twist with agitation. "We've checked all our records, and all of the government records, too. She has only counterfeit documents to even prove she's alive. She doesn't show up in any surveillance videos countrywide until a few years ago. We're looking into other countries, now, but it hasn't been promising.

"She doesn't exist. It's like she dropped out of the sky, sir."

His eyes narrowed. Could she be another – god forbid, he'd had enough of them – extraterrestrial? "Any weaknesses to speak of?"

"None yet, sir."

"Well," Romanoff interjected, "I did see an anomaly."

Fury smirked inwardly. One could always count on the ruthless Black Widow to noticed the weaknesses of others.

"I saw it, back at the mazes – there."

Hill stopped at the portion that Romanoff allotted.

Annie rushed down the hall, whooping with exhilaration. She skidded to a sudden stop at the edge of a narrow trench, about six feet deep and twice as long. The trench was filled with clean, translucent water.

Most agents-in-training faced with the particular obstacle would simply leap into the water and swim the short distance.

Annie did not.

Her hesitation only lasted a moment, but a moment was enough. The flare of her nostrils, the widening of her eyes, the hunch of her shoulders, and the sudden rigidity of her muscles altogether screamed fear, _**fear**_, profound and crippling.

She jumped, rebounding from wall to wall above the surface of the water until she hit dry land on the other side of the trench. Only when it was far behind her did she relax.

The Director felt a rush of elation. Yes, he lusted for power, but perhaps he lusted for control more so. As he watched the screen, he knew.

This newfound power could be controlled.

After feigning a moment of deliberation, Fury ordered, "Tell her she's in, but watch for this…_evasiveness_ she has towards water. Keep testing her limits."

He turned and stalked out of the room, his leather coat brushing audibly against his calves.

O~*o~*~o*~O

**Note: I am EXTREMELY sorry that this chapter took so long to come out! This is not to be expected. I will update much sooner in the future.**

**The end of the semester brought studying, finals, projects, and a huge workload. But that's behind me now, so! I am free to write.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Titans and Sirens and Visions, Oh My!**

"_Come away little lamb,_

_Come away to the water,_

_Give yourself so we might live anew._

_Come away little lamb,_

_Come away to the slaughter;_

_To the ones appointed to see this through._

_We are calling for you,_

_We are coming for you."_

Come Away to the Water, Maroon 5.

O~*o~*~o*~O

**Hey, look! Loki!**

**You guys thought that I had forgotten about him, didn't you? ;3**

**Warning: some emotional Annie-bashing, I suppose you could call it.**

**Also, mild suggestive humor.**

O~*o~*~o*~O

"No, Loki."

He had heard those words before once, on the lips of another, and at that time they had wrought destruction inside of his anguished and frost-laden heart. Now they came only as an unwanted annoyance.

"But, Lord Thanos," he wheedled, crafting the words skillfully with his tongue of silver, "the Destroyer would retrieve Thor as well as I."

"That is indisputable." Thanos stepped closer menacingly, backing Loki against a wall. Loki's heart beat against his ribcage like the wings of a frightened sparrow. "But I wish for _you_ to do it."

At that, Loki slumped slightly in mediocre relief. He had not angered the mastermind behind his plans, and that was to be celebrated any day.

Thanos's voice transformed into a silky purr. "Your brother was the one who dragged you from Midgard clad in a shameful muzzle and shackles, was he not?" The titan invaded Loki's space even further, pressing his hands against the prince's body and making the Frost Giant shiver in a cross between fear and delight. "Why do you not return the favor?"

Loki imagined dragging the golden prince to the dungeons and the humiliation the act would bring Thor, and he beamed widely.

"Yes, Lord Thanos. With pleasure."

His form shivered, becoming ethereal as he searched for holes in the fabric of Yggdrasil, hidden passageways that would lead him to Midgard.

In the back of his mind, he was reminded vaguely of the secret doorways in the castle that he and Thor had explored as children. But the thought never made the journey to the forefront of his thoughts.

He vanished.

O~*o~*~o*~O

_Gwen. Gwen. Gwen. I've got a beautiful girlfriend, and her name is Gwen. _

Well, he'd like to think that he had a girlfriend named Gwen. He would, if he hadn't promised her father that he would leave her blessedly uninvolved.

Like most of the male Avengers in Stark Tower, Peter kept catching his gaze wandering to Annie. There was something about her – some kind of vibe, aura, whatever – that snatched at the male cornea and forced them to turn.

_Look at me, _cried her face, and every other part of her body, _look at how gloriously shaped and firm I am. _

"She's worse than a bag of cats," Bruce declared one day when he, Peter, and Tony were alone. A patch of new marble graced the floor where, with Loki's help, the Hulk had remodeled. "She's a siren."

"This is why we don't have girls on the team." Tony's tone was dry and bleak.

Peter looked at Tony sharply, pushing his father's glasses up his nose (and feeling a pang of melancholy; he wondered how many countless times his father had carried out the very motion). "What about Natasha?"

"Aw." Tony took a swig of the brown and probably alcoholic liquid in his glass. "She's sexy as hell, but she doesn't count. Even if it's not open, everyone knows she's taken; anyways, she doesn't secrete hormones like a horny teenage girl.

"I guess Pepper's lucky that I'm utterly committed."

"Amen." Bruce raised his mug, filled with herbal tea, of course, and he and Tony clinked them together before drinking deeply.

"But have you seen her…" A now-flushed Tony cupped his hands in midair, making a squeezing motion. "I mean, they're just the right size, and…"

Turning cherry red, Peter shook his head and ducked quickly away from Tony's lewd gestures before the conversation could take a turn for the x-rated.

The other girls liked her well enough to her face, but of course it was that _thing _that girls did to each other; they only made their dislike clear once the girl they disliked turned her back.

Girls were confusing, Peter decided, and he wanted nothing to do with them.

Unless that girl was Gwen.

Then he wanted everything to do with her.

O~*o~*~o*~O

Tony sprawled on the loveseat, investing in some _light_ reading on physics, which was really awhile spent on his tablet while a lonely physics book sat at his side, waiting to be read. He had just settled in peacefully when a harrowed Barton stalked by him, followed by Annie. She wore a sultry denim romper, a white cardigan draped over her shoulders as though a simple cardigan could erase all the naughty thoughts that accompanied the skin-baring jumpsuit.

Tony sighed. _Doesn't she own any _real _clothes?_

Pepper was going to kill him if Annie hung around much longer. Hell, she'd caught him glancing – glancing! He was a fiancé, not a corpse – and she'd sent such a fearsome, murderous glare his way that he almost wet his pants.

He'd obviously done something to piss off some cosmic power, and he wasn't sure exactly what.

"So, Cupid," Annie pestered, hanging around Barton like an extraordinarily persistent mosquito, or perhaps a puppy begging for food. "When are you guys going to let me in what happened last month? When do I get to _know _things?"

Stark's jaw went slack, and he was so taken with shock that he never processed Barton's response.

_Why didn't I ever think of 'Cupid'? Sarcasm is supposed to be my area of expertise. _

It kind of stung him, that she was taking charge of the "wit" in the group. That was Tony's area of expertise, assigning irksome nicknames and such.

Ah, well; he was still filthy rich.

He just hoped that Annie didn't have millions of dollars stashed away somewhere.

O~*o~*~o*~O

Thanos sensed him, watching from the shadows like a great vulture awaiting his fill of the carnage. "Come forth, Other," Thanos ordered imperiously. "Speak of what troubles you."

The Other stepped from his hiding place tentatively. "Your power over him wanes, Master." The Other hovered at Thanos's side like a timid shadow.

"That is true," Thanos mused thoughtfully, and the Other visibly relaxed at not having offended his master. "Time will wear at any enchantment, no matter how deeply it is rooted in the mind. But fear not."

"But…Master…" Again, the Other hesitated, as though he were crossing dangerous waters. And perhaps he was. "What if he betrays us?"

The temper of the titan changed as a bolt of lightning cracking through the sky: blinding, breathtaking, and terrifying. "Do you think me a fool?"

The Other cowered. "N-no, Master, I only – "

"The Jotün will never dare cross me. His fear of my wrath is too great. Even if he were to somehow wriggle away from me…." The corner of his mouth quirked in a sinister manner. "…He would come crawling back like the _scum_, the sniveling excuse for a prince that he is."

O~*o~*~o*~O

Annie woke with a start and a short scream, sitting up in bed.

_Just a dream. _

_A dream._

Ha. _Dream. _What an understatement that was. Nightmare was a far better term. She had dreamt again of water, of drowning, of clear liquid that crawled inside her nose and mouth and suffocated her… the same recurring nightmare that plagued her nights and colored them "sleepless". In the midst of the hallucination, she had heard that haunting voice, as she always did, calling out to her, crying for help. That voice, the voice of a wraith, existed only in her mind. It lingered in the dredges of her consciousness, cropping up when she was most vulnerable.

Still blind to the world, Annie wriggled deeper beneath the heavy, familiar comforter in her epic quest for sleep. She curled into her customary ball and waited.

And waited.

After eons had passed without so much as a drowsy spell, she realized that her valiant efforts were for naught. Her earlier nightmare had spooked and unsettled her mind to the point at which sleep would simply not be obtained.

_Might as well do something more constructive, _Annie thought, burrowing a tunnel toward the edge of the blanket until her head popped out.

Blinking owlishly, her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Even though she had brilliant nightvision, she thought that her occipital lobe must have picked that night to be a troll, because she was not in her own room.

_Where…?_

_That's right_.

She was staying in one of Stark's man guest bedrooms, because the Avengers were officially "assembled", and although she lived in New York, it was easier for all the Avengers to be in the same place at once in case of emergency.

Apparently, they had been faced with some kind of threat which Annie hadn't been told of due to her newness to the team.

How ridiculous.

Her thoughts took a more somber turn, reliving her nightmare in circuits.

There had to be some kind of way to beat fear.

She recalled the wise advice she had received from an acquaintance that had destroyed his crippling fear of heights: conditioning. Get used to fear step by step, run with it, and little by little, it will be overcome.

Well, there was no harm in trying, was there?

The newest Avenger rushed to the luxurious toffee-toned bathroom adjoining her bedroom, and without further ado, stripped. Her glare fell upon the spacious walk-in shower – damn Tony and his flair for glamour, had he never heard of a tub with a plug? – and, consequently, she plucked a fluffy beige handtowel from the rack with the intentions of stuffing it down the drain.

On her way to do so, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.

The girl standing there was most definitely not Annie. Her hair was wild and tangled from sleep and her eyes alight with fever. The girl on the other side of the glass was terrified and lost-looking.

Annie longed to make her disappear.

The arches of her feet pressed against the frigid floor as she swung open the shower door. Though she was outwardly calm, her anxiety spiked drastically as she shut the glass door behind her. She quelled her fear as it rioted inside of her mind.

_I'll be alright_, her mind soothed. _Just a little water. Nothing more, nothing less, and certainly nothing to be afraid of. I drink water every day, don't I? And over seventy percent of the world is covered in the stuff. I ought to get used to it. _

She wadded up the handtowel and shoved it down the drain as a temporary stopper.

Annie twisted the crystal know and pulled, winching her eyelids tightly shut. Steaming water poured from the showerhead. The fine mist assaulted her face, and that was fine. A river made her hair heavy and trickled in rivulets down her torso, and that was fine, too. Heat pulled insistently at her tense muscles, forcing her to relax. For a few short moments, she knew peace.

But then she moved, and heard the slosh of water around her feet.

Her eyes snapped open and she whimpered, gazing frantically at the froth swirling about her ankles.

_Calm down, calm down, calmdown CALMDOWN__**CALMDOWN!**_

Annie pounced backwards, slamming her spine against the cream colored wall tiles. Her breath came in wispy, phobia-constricted gasps as the water slapped against her ankles like hands – hands,hands**HANDS! **Hands that would come from the depths and snatch her and pull her under, hold her head under the surface of the roiling turmoil as her mouth and eyes and nose and lungs filled with water – _choking – drowning – _and as she thought of hands she began to see hideous creatures writhing and teaming around her feet, malevolent creatures with scarlet eyes and fearsome smiles and cruel smiles filled with fangs ready to tear through her skin and –

Trembling, Annie threw open the shower door and burst from her torture chamber so swiftly that she fell, gashing her arm on the handle. She contemplated the roiling shower before leaning inside cautiously and switching the knob off.

She crawled across the floor until she was in the middle of the room; she hugged her knees tightly to her chest. Only two heartbeats later, she lost her composure.

_You're stupid, you're so stupid. Who do you think you are? A hero? HA! An Avenger who's afraid of water, how ridiculous! How laughable! How pathetic! You don't deserve such a title. _

She covered her face with her hands. Tendrils of soaking hair stuck to her forehead, back, and chest. Wracking sobs sent tremors through her whole body; she bit down on her fist until the metallic tang of blood filled her mouth.

Tears rolled down her face and coalesced with the water and the blood flowing from her arm; and the concoction scurried unbidden across the floor as though it sought to paint the room with her shame.

The gash and teeth wounds sealed, and her dark brown curls dried and frizzed.

A soft, strangled keen tore from her throat, echoing with a note of finality. Her body and mind calmed, and she unfurled numbly from her crouch on the floor. Annie peered in the mirror once more.

She had replaced the girl in the mirror with someone worse, someone even more unbalanced.

So there was harm in trying, after all.

Squirting a dallop of shampoo in her palm, Annie leaned over the sink, re-wetting her hair and massaging the soap against her scalp. She rinsed, cleansing her face with the excess.

There. The girl in the mirror looked more like Annie now. She tried a few practice smiles – alluring, sweet, dangerous, beaming, venomous – they were watered down, but well on the way to recuperation.

Anastasia set about eradicating the most damning evidence, unclogging the shower drain, mopping up the liquid on the honeyed marble floor, and rinsing away the dried blood with a moist towlette. She bunched up the myriad of towels, washcloths and handtowels and tossed them into the laundry chute (she wondered, offhand, if the chutes lead to an incinerator, and Tony simply bought new towels whenever his stock was low. He was certainly wealthy enough).

She didn't know how long she had spent in the restroom; she'd guess that at least a couple hours had passed.

But she did know that sleep would not come for the rest of the night.

O~*o~*~o*~O

**Note: You may be wondering why I included Spiderman, but I think a more accurate question would be, why not?**

**Honestly, I couldn't tell you why I was so hell-bent on bringing in Peter. I feel that, were he an Avenger, he'd be like a baby brother, tagging along for the ride, and I like that idea.**

**Besides, he might be in the next Avengers movie. So.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Real Duties and Child's Play.**

"_Darkness sets in as the horns start to grow_

_Suddenly I become somebody I don't know._

_What do I do?_

_This body's a temple of doom._

_What can I say_

_To make all of this go away?"_

Voodoo Doll, Fergie.

O~*o~*~o*~O

**Thank you to my reviewers, Sergeant Hiddles (the answer to your question is nowhere in sight, by the way, but you can expect some hints along the way, so do watch out for those), aussierose89, Guest, and TheWhyteRabbit. Reviews make me all warm and fuzzy inside: I love to hear feedback, criticism, your hunches…anything, really! So, don't be shy to review or PM!**

**Sorry that this took so long; I've been busy with homework and my senior project, among other things. Since I present it next Monday, I can stop stressing about it then and will definitely be able to write more.**

**And if you ever finding yourself wondering, "What's taking that girl so long?" you can find a bulletin on my profile page :3 I'll keep you updated on the progress of the next chapter, or if something is going on with me in *shudder* real life that is making it hard for writing.**

**Thanks, and enjoy!**

O~*o~*~o*~O

Loki had learned long ago that self-generated portals weren't always forthcoming, but that foreknowledge did not stop him from tumbling gracelessly head over heels when he was spat out in a Midgardian forest.

He landed on his back. The wind flew from his lung in a great _whoosh_ and he gasped for breath. He felt like he'd just been punched by the green monster. Not for the first time, he cursed Thor for shattering the Bifrost. With the Bifrost gone, inter-realm travel had become a painful matter.

The young prince took in his surroundings coolly, fingers laced across his chest as he took a moment to breath.

Green was everywhere. The color dominated the environment. Weak fingers of sunlight struggled to wriggle between the close knit branches. Shiny, serrated leaves hung from the branches of the shortest trees like emeralds from a lady's throat. Jade-colored moss crawled greedily across every available surface. Ferns dotted the ground around twisted, gnarled brown tree roots. There was a plethora of tree species existing in this small, cramped space: fir, hemlock, cedar, spruce, alder, yew. The low of a buck echoed through the forest, accompanying the omnipresent chitters of songbirds.

Almost as prominent as the coloring was the wetness. Water stained the brown dirt a rich black. Moisture dripped from a leaf above and landed on his nose. His trousers stuck tightly to his legs as the ground soaked them.

He sighed, ignoring his body's complaints as he sat up in one jerky movement. The ex-prince felt as though he were a marionette, clipped from the strings, unable to move without due assistance. He struggled to gain stability as he stood; he wobbled precariously before finally sinking backwards and taking a seat on a thoroughly rotted log.

He knew without a doubt that he was too weak, too drained to sustain a spell of transportation. Revenge would just have to wait a few insignificant hours, then, while he regained his strength.

His attention turned to the staff clutched in his trembling hands. He uncurled his stiff fingers, and ran his hands along the bronze surface of Gungnir; he had wielded the staff before, but his amazement was not diminished the second time. I am king of Asgard. Those who once ridiculed me are mine to control.

He craved their loyalty and respect, whether it came willingly or not.

_You are a fool_, The Voice said in its clinical, detached tone, like a separate entity. _A fool and a boy, throwing a fit for attention.__  
_  
_I am not. My ambitions are great._

He did not know it, but eons away, Thanos screamed in fury that it was Gungnir Loki wielded, and not the staff.

O~*o~*~o*~O

Annie yawned in boredom widely enough that her jaw popped. Her abnormally sharp, gleaming white teeth clicked together with an audible snap. She prowled her floor in the Tower like a caged wildcat, pacing down the poshly carpeted hallways without appreciating her surroundings. She searched for some form of amusement to steal her mind away from the aching inactivity at hand.

Flouncing into her bedroom, she vaulted to the bed and sprawled on the covers.

"What do I do now?" She sighed, gazing up at the ceiling as though it would answer her question.

And it did.

"The closest residential floor is Mr. Parker's," the disembodied and distinctively British voice of JARVIS suggested helpfully. "You could visit him, perhaps, Miss Hellfire."

Annie chortled as the AI used her surname. Upon her first welcomed arrival at the Tower, the AI had requested a surname to refer to her by. Since she didn't have one and the supercomputer was far too polite and proper to call her by her first name, she had blurted out the first thing that had popped into her head.

The gawk on Tony's face had been priceless.

"Well, hello, JARVIS," she called cordially, "and thank you for the idea. I think I'll follow through."

"My pleasure, madam," the ceiling -or perhaps the walls, she was never quite sure- answered smoothly. "Shall I inform him of your intentions?"

"No, that's alright, I think I'll just drop in."

O~*o~*~o*~O

Peter was so engrossed in a dusty old tome that he didn't seem to notice when the elevator stopped on his floor. Annie crept through the living room, waiting for him to notice that he was no longer alone.

He did not look up.

She felt an inkling of respect for the kid; she had been guilty of getting hopelessly absorbed in a good book on more than one occasion. The young woman almost felt inclined to leave him be.

Almost.

"Thank God," she enunciated, hopping over the back of the leather couch and plopping down beside him. He started violently and looked over at her, blinking. "Another human being. I was starting to think that I'd entered the twilight zone."

Having just resurfaced from an alternate dimension, Peter was not quite eloquent. "I-uh-yeah," he stammered lamely, a flush creeping along the rims of his ears. "Yeah, it's pretty quiet around here."

She raised a brow, prompting him to continue.

"Tony's always working in his shop, or hanging with Pepper, or sometimes even at a Stark Industries meeting -however rare that is." He chuckled, a strained, nervous chuckle that indicated the significant strain her presence placed on his shoulders. "Bruce is usually either with Tony, since they're 'science bros', or cloistered up in his room. He's not much of a people person. And Barton and Natasha...they're a thing, but they don't want to admit it. They're working out or watching movies. They get a couple assignments every now and then, but since the Avengers are technically assembled right now, they're supposed to be here in case we need them. Steve wanders the city a lot, though he never goes far. He's still trying to get used to the real world."

Throughout his monologue, Annie nodded pensively to indicate that she was listening and, no, she was not counting the tiles of the ceiling, thanks. The two of them floundered in the awkward silence that ensued before Peter spoke again.

"Y'know...two of them disappear once a day, in cycles." She stiffened at the new information, and he gazed at her with bright, meaningful eyes. "But whenever I ask where they've been, I get bull answers. Maybe..."

"...There's something we're not being told," Annie finished for him. She tapped her fingers sharply against the arm of the sofa as she stewed. "But what is it?"

"I don't know," Peter answered earnestly.

"Huh," she groused, not liking the sound of that at all. Suddenly, she charted a new course, basking in their momentary camaraderie. "I like you. You're not like the others."

He blushed three shades of red. "I-uh-thank you, I guess."

She smirked. "I don't like you like that, lover boy, so don't get any ideas in that head of yours. I'm not a cougar, anyway."

"Naturally; we don't even know each other."

"That's a good point." She leaned more intimately into his personal space, causing him to slide away. She laughed inwardly, finding amusement in his flustered expression. "Why don't you enlighten me?"

He frowned slightly. "There's not much to tell, really. I just graduated high school in June. I'm trying to get work as a photographer for the paper by taking pictures of the Avengers -"

"-let's not forget that you _are_ one now, Spidey-"

"-in action. I have a girlfriend who is my girlfriend but isn't, and I have an aunt who worries about me constantly."

"Aunt?" Her brows creased.

"Yeah. My parents died when I was young, so my aunt and uncle raised me. My uncle was killed just this last year." His tone was painfully blunt, swift, and to the point. He crossed his legs and settled back, thumbing through the book inconspicuously.

"Oh" was her gentle reply, accompanied with a knowing smirk. Then, as he began to open the book, "that trick doesn't work on me, you know."

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "What trick?"

She lounged, crossing her legs and flinging her arms around the back of the sofa. "The one where you tell me that your parents died so that I feel awkward and leave you alone." He flushed, and she smirked. "Honey, I've been playing that trick on people for my whole _life_."

"Your parents died?" he asked hesitantly, looking up from his book.

Her brow twitched and she inclined her head once. "Yes. But I didn't have any family, so I ran away and raised myself."

They surveyed each other for a very long moment; respect forced itself upon the both of them.

"I like you," Peter said finally, the ghost of a smile etched on his lips.

She sniggered and waved her hand, indicating that he should continue reading. He had only just returned to his sanctuary of leather, glue, and paper when the elevator dinged and Barton strode inside.

"Hey, kiddies, we got an assignment for you two. Real Avengers stuff."

Peter groaned and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "I'll just stay in my room next time."

Annie giggled and thumped his arm playfully, following Barton into the elevator. Peter sighed heavily but he, too, followed the agent.

O~*o~*~o*~O

His physical exhaustion had cleared, but now he was locked in a waiting game for the replenishment of his mental energy.

Loki huffed, thoroughly bored with his surroundings, and decided to wander. His trousers needed to dry, at any rate, and the log he had made a seat of helped matters not.

A small, snakelike footpath studded with round rocks twisted across the forest floor. He followed it with a raging bout of curiosity. A Midgardian phrase that he'd learned in his short stint in the Realm last time came to the forefront of his mind: _curiosity killed the cat. _

Well, surely redemption brought it back. And that cat was, most likely, not a master in a magic, or a demigod, or any of the insurmountable things that Loki _was. _

He set off into the forest without a shred of fear.

O~*o~*~o*~O

As they exited the elevator on the thirtieth floor, Peter and Annie flocked behind their leader hawk in a v-formation.

_Like geese_, Annie thought in amusement, _only hawks. _

"Where are you taking us, Oh Obscure One?" she pestered. Barton flinched in annoyance, rolling back his shoulders and pretending that he had not heard her.

That behavior would not _fly _with Annie. "Birdbrain? Birdman? Cupid? Merida? Katniss? Robin Hood?"

He seethed silently. "I'm taking you two to meet someone," he ground out.

"I bet he's going to introduce us to his Merry Men," Annie stage-whispered her quip to Peter, who in turn snorted. She was appeased by the answer, however, and stepped higher.

The agent led them down a darkened hallway lacking in windows but not in doors. White wall sconces lit the way every few feet. The walls had been papered in a somber umber, and the floor blanketed with coarse black carpet.

_They must be the Alternative Merry Men_, Annie thought.

At the last door on the right, Barton stopped. "Before we go in," he carped, pausing only to flash Annie a death glare of intensity just shy of actually killing her, "there are a few things you should know. One, this guy deserves your respect. He's an Avenger, just like the two of you; except he's been here longer, so he's more important than the two of you. Two, he's on the mend and on the run. He's been threatened, and even though our enemies probably know where he's at, it's best to keep it under wraps. Therefore, do not speak of him with anyone _but _Pepper, Jane, the rest of the team, or Fury. No one else is to be trusted. Got that?"

Peter and Annie nodded in unison.

"Good. And, finally, you should be warned that he's really overeager. And a little…odd. Do you understand everything that I have told you?"

The two youngest Avengers exchanged perplexed, critical glances before Peter nodded sharply.

Barton opened the door. Annie was not prepared for the storm that followed.

First came the assault of harsh antiseptic scent on her sensitive nose. She wrinkled it up in disgust, breathing as little as possible.

"Friend Barton!" A mass of blond hair, pink plaster and sweatclothes lumbered towards them on a pair of undersized crutches.

"Hey, buddy." The solemn Hawk actually managed a lukewarm smile. "You finally figured out those crutches."

The blond giant beamed a thousand kilowatt smile. "I have not fallen nearly as many times today!"

"It was quite a feat, actually," Banner chipped in from behind. He sat next to a hospital bed in the right corner of the room, a well-worn Rubik's cube cradled in his hands.

"Especially considering how many times he face-planted the other day," Tony added. He sat in a rolling chair at the end of the bed.

Barton interrupted the banter, beckoning Annie and Peter forward. The giant's light blue eyes fell on them with an air of curiosity. "Thor, there's a couple people that I wanted you to meet. This is Peter Parker and Annie; they're the new teammates we told you about."

Thor grinned cheekily, hobbling forward as best as he could manage. "It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Son of Parker and Lady Annie." He wrestled with the crutches and managed to hold out his hand to Annie. Bemused, Annie slowly offered hers. Thor snatched her hand up and kissed her knuckles, releasing just as quickly.

"Well," Annie gushed, feeling her cheeks grow slightly hot, "I guess chivalry isn't dead, after all."

Suddenly, Jane appeared at Thor's elbow. She was so short that the giant of a man must have obscured her from Annie's view. Annie deduced that Jane and Thor must have been romantically involved, because Jane's eyes were narrowed with ill-concealed jealousy.

"And the claws come out," Tony cackled from the opposite side of the room.

Barton cleared his throat in the suddenly _hawk_ward atmosphere. "Anyways. Thor needs two guards at every given moment." The guardee in question grimaced. "Right now is about time for a changing of the guard, since Bruce and the asshat have been up here for the past couple of hours –"

" – hey, this _asshat _is paying your room and board for you, you ungrateful son of a – "

" – so we figured that you two could take the next duty. Up for it?"

The full gravity of what they were being entrusted with struck Annie. Thor was important, and he was being placed fully in their care.

She raised her chin decisively. "Yes."

"Alright, bro, let's go do some science!" Tony rubbed his hands eagerly together as he left the room. Following, Bruce looked…somewhat thrilled. Not as thrilled as Tony, though.

Jane and Thor bent their heads together, discussing something quietly. Annie made a distinct gagging sound before her attention was captured by Barton.

"Thor is not, under any circumstances, allowed to go outside." He ticked off the guild-lines on his fingers. "Watch out for his puppy dog eyes, because they're lethal. Don't let him convince you to bring him Pop Tarts, because he'll eat himself sick on them. That's pretty much it."

"Go, Lady Jane," Thor ordered gently. "I could not bear if you made yourself ill worrying for my health."

She pursed her lips, gazing woefully up at him with her doe's eyes. "Fine, Thor," she agreed, standing on her toes. They shared a quick kiss before Jane left the room, shooting a warning glance at Peter and Annie as if to say, "he's special to me, watch him carefully".

Barton left on her heels, and Peter, Annie, and Thor were alone.

With a huff, Thor sat on the bed, propping his pink-ified leg up.

Annie snickered. "What's the story with the pink cast, big guy?"

"The Man of Iron," Thor lamented. His brow puckered. "Could we go for a stroll?"

Peter and Annie glanced at each other.

"Barton said not to let him outside…" Peter trailed off.

"…But didn't specify whether that meant outside of the _room_ or outside of the _Tower._" Annie tapped her chin, thoughtful.

_I don't see why not, _she reasoned. _The rest of the Tower is going to be as safe as this room. All the glass is one sided. No one's going to see him. Should be safe._

"I will not make a spectacle of myself." Thor leaned forward hopefully.

"Well…I don't see why not, Peter."

Annie spotted a wheelchair beside the bed. "Do you mind if we push you?"

Their charge shook his head, nearly bouncing up and down in excitement. "Not at all."

O~*o~*~o*~O

He had been walking for hours, but his demigod stamina did not wear thin in that span of time.

The path let out at a worn, weather-beaten cottage constructed of gray, haphazardly stacked round stones and grimy mortar. The roof drooped wearily, like an old man in the last of his years. Undergrowth had claimed the tiny home as its own; vines wrapped protectively around its berth and crept in through the gaping windows.

Loki stepped forward, brushing his hand along the doorjamb and peering inside.

Empty.

_It's all the same_, The Voice insisted dryly. _You do not have time to tinker with long-forgotten Midgardian trinkets. If creatures as simple as mortals have forgotten this place, then you should not spare it your eyes, either. _

The trickster's brow puckered. Yes, that was true. He supposed.

_Have you forgotten the task at hand? _

He puffed out his chest angrily. Of course he hadn't!

Loki deliberated, gauging his magic. He had almost returned to his full potential, and that was certainly enough.

He turned away from the cottage, and held an image of the lavish tower he had visited when last in Midgard in his mind's eye.

_Stark Tower, _his mind supplied him with the name.

Lids closed, he smiled.

Stark Tower, and Thor.

He disappeared from the spot, insignificant woodland creatures squealing in surprise.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: Make Me A Sammich.**

"_I'm a new soul,_

_I came to this strange world_

_Hoping I could learn a bit_

_About how to give and take."_

New Soul, Yael Niam.

O~*o~*~o*~O

**Well. Moving was hell.**

**But it's said and done now. SO I CAN ACTUALLY WRITE.**

**Sorry for the delay, guys. Anywho. Moving on.**

**Many thanks and virtual cookies for my reviewers on that last chapter: aussierose89, NoVacancyMind, and Sergeant Hiddles. Your reviews mean the world to me!**

**But enough sappy stuff. Let's get on to the action, right?**

O~*o~*~o*~O

"A proper housewife you will never make." Peter watched Annie haphazardly slap together the ugliest sandwiches he'd ever seen, bar none.

"Oh, piss off." She slathered a glob of mayonnaise onto a slice of bread. "He's devouring them faster than I can make them."

Peter snorted. "Maybe you shouldn't feed him so much. Banner will have our heads over the mantle."

"Coming from the one who let Thor dig into the 'popping tarts' like a hungry elephant severely lacking in table manners? Please," she retorted sourly, effectively ending the tiff. "Practice what you preach." Her companion blushed scarlet.

Peter, as it had turned out, had been the weakest link in their partnership: after an almost lethal dosage of puppy dog eyes, Peter had caved to Thor's demands for Pop Tarts. Thor had inhaled six pastries before Annie, who had been unaffected by the previous widened eyes and trembling lips, put her foot down, wresting the box from his hands and placing it strategically out of reach. Thor had pouted like surly child until Annie offered to make him a sandwich to sate his hunger. So far, he had managed to demolish a whole loaf of bread and was still going strong.

"Do you ever stop eating?" Annie asked of him incredulously. It was her supposition that Thor's stomach as either a wormhole or a bottomless pit.

Thor paused in his mission to annihilate all of Tony's sandwich supplies only long enough to answer. "This is nothing, Lady Annie; a healing warrior is to expect an increase in appetite. My friend Volstagg, who loves food perhaps more than his wife, once consumed an entire feast by himself. As you may well imagine-" Thor chuckled around his sandwich "-his stomach ached for a considerable amount of time."

"You have no room to talk, anyways, Annie," Peter interrupted dryly, eyeing the turkey-ham-and-cheese sandwich -her fourth- in her hand.

"Look." Annie waved said sandwich about, shaking it in emphasis to each of her words. Thor gazed morosely at the smattering of crumbs that flew every which way, as though even the loss of those few crumbs was cause for great lamentation. "I have a valid excuse, okay?"

Peter's brows skyrocketed. "And that is...?"

Annie pondered him for a moment, measuring the full extent of trustworthiness the boy spider exuded. "Well," she sniffed, "my metabolism runs much higher than the average. Much, much higher. I'd guess that I need something in the range of four to five thousand calories daily. If I don't eat enough, I get slapped with nasty side effects: dizziness, lightheadedness, the shakes, nausea, weakness in my muscles...the works." She pressed the back of her hand against her temple and mocked a damsel's swoon. "Which is no help to anyone anywhere. So I eat as much food, especially protein, as I can get."

Peter gazed at her with all the respect and appreciation that his budding scientist's heart could muster. "Impressive."

"More like freakish. I have a freakish physiognomy. That contributes to my high body core temp, too," Annie rambled offhandedly, tossing Thor yet another sandwich. "I run higher than most people. Convenient in the wintertime, but hellish in the summer." She shuddered delicately, recalling the vicious bout of heatstroke she'd been subjected to in the summer past.

"Oh? Is that why you dress so scantily?" Peter asked testily.

Annie shot Peter the dirtiest, most scathing look she could manage with a mouthful of bread. She chewed, swallowed, and tactfully changed the subject. "We're being awful hosts to poor Thor, here. The man doesn't look like he's understood a word we've said." Their charge did, in fact, have the blank visage of a deer caught in headlights.

Two ruddy circles appeared in Thor's cheeks as he sheepishly blushed. "I admit," he said softly, "that I understood very little, but that may have been your Midgardian phrasing."

Annie's brow furrowed in the epitome of confusion. _Midgardian…? The hell is he smoking? _She decided to simply let it go. After all, they were in New York, a city filled with nuts. Why should it be so surprising that she had run into one at Stark Tower? "You didn't miss much, I assure you. We were just talking about how different my body is from others."

"That much I gathered."

"Speaking of bodies." She pointed to the pink cast adorning his leg. "Whatever happened to your leg?"

"Ah." Thor rapped on the plaster. "I injured it in battle. I wear this only to appease Friend Banner and the Man of Iron – they were quite insistent that I don it." He grimaced. "Although, to be honest, it is probably healed by this time."

"Must be nice to be waited on hand and foot, right?" Peter remarked lightly.

"It reminds me painfully of home."

"You're not from around here, are you?" Annie tilted her head to the side, sizing up her –their –charge. She noted his rigid, regal posture, the cadence in which he spoke, his choice in vocabulary. That was not to mention his peculiar name: Thor. _Who in their right mind names their kid Thor?_

The blond man stiffened visibly, catching Peter's curiosity as well. "No," he answered finally, "I am not."

"Then where are you from?"

"I am not at the liberty to disclose that information." Thor fiddled with his cast, frowning deeply. "Friend Barton asked me not to."

Annie beamed widely. "We won't tell," she promised.

"But what about JARVIS?" Peter suggested, lackluster. "There's no guarantee that he won't tell."

She elbowed him roughly in the ribs, drawing a sharp _oof _from her considerably smaller companion. "Shut up, Peter," she ground from the side of her mouth. "You're not helping."

He rubbed his side, frowning. "That was the point."

"Sir JARVIS." Thor addressed the ceiling doubtfully, as though he didn't expect a response. When JARVIS replied, Thor flinched visibly. "Are you bound to report our doings to Friend Barton and the Man of Iron?"

"To an extent, Mister Odinson," JARVIS responded crisply. "Though I can omit certain details at your request."

"I wouldn't trust the AI. He let Annie in, after all." Peter earned himself another elbow to the ribs.

This appeared to ruffle a few JARVIS's feathers, for, when he replied, his tone seemed sharp and curt and perhaps a tad offended. "Hardly by any fault of my own, Mister Parker. At the time that Miss Hellfire was in the process of infiltrating the Tower, Mister Stark had commanded me to mute after I had 'nagged' about his excessive alcohol intake. I could not inform Mister Stark until she had already entered."

Annie wasn't sure whether to smirk at Peter for having trumped his argument, or to be affronted that it wasn't her own ingenuity that had gotten her into the Tower. She finally settled for, "So you see, Thor? It's completely fine. We won't tattle on you, and neither will JARVIS. Right, JARVIS?"

"In so many words, yes, Miss Hellfire."

Thor chewed the inside of his cheek, scowling deeply. "Alright." His face smoothed of negative emotions, replaced by a flat calm like the surface of a mirror. "I will tell you. I am of the Realm Eternal, Asgard, which, as I have come to understand, you Midgardians would refer to as another 'planet'."

A hiatus, and then – Annie and Peter burst into chatter simultaneously.

"But – that can't be possible – "

"Another planet? Wicked! – "

"I don't understand – how? – "

"Do you guys have flying saucers, like in the cartoons – "

"And you refer to us as Midgardians – ?"

"If you're an alien, why aren't you all blue, like in Avatar? Where's your funky pterodactyl thing? Did the Men in Black bring you here?"

Thor's eyes widened exasperatedly. "Please, my friends!" he exclaimed. "I will answer your questions, if only you give me the chance!"

"Ladies first." Peter pushed his glasses up his nose.

"No, I insist. You first," Annie said impishly.

He scowled, put off by her lack of acceptance of his politeness. "Fine." His tone was prim. "How many other planets are there?"

"There are Nine Realms that we know of," Thor replied swiftly. "Asgard, Midgard, Jotunheim, Muspellsheim, Alfheim, Vanaheim, Svartalfheim, Niflheim, and Helheim." He cocked his brow as if to say 'next'.

Annie huffed, chewing over a thought that had just occurred to her. Images flooded her mind: a car exploding into mangled bits of shrapnel that struck down the people running at her sides, guns firing blue bullets of energy, reptilian skeletors snarling in bloodthirsty delight, death, the stench of burning flesh…the extraterrestrial invasion. "Did your people have anything to do with that invasion?" she asked solemnly, all traces of humor gone from her voice.

A myriad of emotions flickered across his face: anger, regret, betrayal, but pain reigned most clearly. "Yes and no."

Fire teased at the walls of her stomach, feeding a burgeoning anger. "That is not much of an answer."

"My…brother felt slighted by my father," Thor began haltingly. Annie wondered if this was the first time he'd told this story. "Because he felt that my father favored me over him – and, in truth, he did, unfairly so. My brother grew, embittered, until finally he attempted to kill both my father and I.

"He did not succeed. We fought, and in the midst of our duel, I destroyed the Bifrost, the rainbow bridge that provides us transportation between the Realms. In doing so, my brother fell into the…abyss." He paused, composing himself, and Annie reached out empathetically to rest her small palm on his forearm. A smile twitched at the side of his mouth.

"We thought him dead until Heimdall saw him begin an assault here, on Midgard." His smile twisted into something wry and bitter. "My brother, Loki, brought his grudge here. He planned to take this world as recompense, as payment for all the wrongs he was dealt. With him came a ruthless army by the name of the Chitauri."

"Chitauri…" Peter's eyes clouded over in recognition behind his glasses.

"Loki and his army of Chitauri were beaten here by the Avengers and I, and the rest you kn – "

Thor broke off and all but turned to stone, his eyes locked on a point behind Annie's shoulder.

"Spreading slander of me, Thor?" a silky, masculine voice asked, dripping in poisonous menace.

O~*o~*~o*~O

**An awkwardly long author's note filled with some important stuff, some stupid stuff, and just generally stuff.**

**I know, I know! That was a crap chapter with a crap ending! But I've already taken so long to get this done that I just didn't want to keep you guys waiting any longer (I was afraid of being lynched *looks around furtively*). Besides, the scene that was originally at the end of this chapter is my favorite scene so far, and I wanted to do it justice. I'm in the "get stuff done" mode right now, which unfortunately doesn't always equate to "get stuff done well". I wanted to put in extra time to make sure that it comes out just the way that I want it to. So this is a micro chapter, the next one will be a micro chapter, and after that we'll return to normal length.**

**Please don't hate me! *cringe***

**I'd just like to say that I was reading through the past five chapters the other day, and realized how many mistakes I had missed while editing, and how many cringe-worthy little details there were jammed in there.**

**So. Much. Cheese.**

**I'm going to attempt to give it a facelift of sorts, spruce up Chapters One-Five, but it's nothing you have to worry about. Nothing MAJOR will change. Just figured I'd give you guys a heads-up.**

**Ah! But there is something that I changed that you may want to take a glance at: the warnings attached to this fic. Take a glimpse at the first chapter.**

**And, finally, because I have to make this author's note as obnoxiously long as possible, I have a fanfiction-based tumblr now. The username is le-mischief-maker; follow for all kinds of goodies. Ask me any SWR-related questions (or others?) and I'll answer to the best of my abilities. I might release blurbs from the chapter in progress at that point in time.**

**Anyways.**

**The author's note ends here, my dears. Until next time!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: A Chance Meeting, A Pretty Face, and A Lethal Dance.**

"_I'm taking it slow  
__Feeding my flame  
__Shuffling the cards of your game  
__And just in time  
__In the right place  
__Suddenly I will play my ace  
_…  
_Eyes on fire  
__Your spine is ablaze  
__Felling any foe with my gaze  
__And just in time  
__In the right place  
__Steadily emerging with grace."_

Eyes on Fire, Blue Foundation

O~*o~*~o*~O

**Author's Notes: see bottom.**

**Thanks: all my love to Sergeant Hiddles, Loki'sTimeLady, TimeLady945, gforcejedi, and Guest for the reviews. Many thanks also go out to my follows and favs. I adore you all!**

**Warning: mild violence and obscenities. But nothing that I don't think you can handle.**

O~*~o*~o*~O

Annie whirled, her muscles tensing in anticipation of attack.

Under different circumstances, she would have considered the man who owned the voice to be handsome. Harsh, ice-colored eyes gleamed above an aristocratic nose. His ebony hair, the precise shade of a raven's wing, was smoothed back ruthlessly from his forehead. And he was tall, towering six feet at least. The lines of his face were elegantly sharp and pointed, like a rapier. The wicked, mirthless smile that twisted across his thin lips screamed "DANGER" in Annie's mind.

"It is not slander if it is true, Brother," Thor replied softly, and Annie stiffened. Brother? But that meant –

The other man's face contorted in a momentary fit of rage. He spat, "I am _not _your _brother_" in a low tone rife with danger.

So _this_ was the infamous Loki. Again, images of hellish destruction and fire and _death_ swirled behind Annie's eyes. She snarled, baring her teeth in a fashion bordering on animalistic. Thor and Peter fell away until it was just her and _him_, this…this _creature _that had seen fit to try to enslave the whole of humanity. Her hackles rose as she regarded him as one might a coiled cobra.

If Loki heeded her guardedness – or even noticed her at all – he made no outwards reaction. His full attention was aimed at Thor with all the pointed intensity of an arrow nocked, taught and ready to be unleashed. "What was it that Frigga used to say when admonishing us, Odinson?" he inquired sardonically. "'Although it may ring true, it does not necessarily need to be stated'? Do you remember nothing of what _your_ mother taught us?"

"I do," Thor replied gravely, gazing at Loki somberly, "though it would seem that it is you who has forgotten her lessons. Do you not recall when we had bullied a servant boy, and Mother said, 'Do unto others as you would do unto yourself'? Do you remember how repentant we were, how we followed that servant boy around for weeks on end?" His voice dropped a few decibels further, until it was like the gentle rumble of faraway thunder. "I have forgotten nothing, Brother. I wish that you could claim the same."

A beat of silence. Loki surveyed Thor with half lidded eyes, his head kicked back and arms crossed. His lip gradually curled into a sneer. "_Sentiment_." He spat the word out as though it were an acrid and infectious expletive eating through the flesh of his tongue. Thor flinched slightly in response, but he didn't look surprised, and that sent a spike of anger into Annie's heart. She had only known Thor for a few hours, but she already had a lock on his personality since he was an open book written in size seventy-two neon font. Hurting him equated to punting a three legged baby kitten with non-functioning eyes.

_One does not simply kick a kitten, _Annie thought sourly. She didn't think she could bring herself to purposely barb Thor, and she didn't even know the guy. Loki was supposed to be his _brother_. His brother! How could he _live _with himself?

_That was not to mention his other transgressions. _

"I grow weary, Odinson," Loki snarled, "I did not come here to chat idly of our regrettably shared childhood. I came to _collect_ and leave before my new kingdom becomes privy to my absence." The side of his mouth quirked in triumphant gloating as Thor reddened.

Annie floundered for a moment, struggling to understand the subtle undercurrent skittering between the two brothers before she gave up wholly.

Her curiosity was all but forgotten as Loki stepped towards Thor.

Peter and Annie reacted immediately and instinctively.

Peter clasped the handles of the wheelchair and hefted Thor backwards as Annie simultaneously sprung forward, standing between the two brothers. She sank into a defensive crouch, halfway relieved and halfway irritated that she had decided to wear a skirt today. On one hand, _it was a skirt_, and she was well on her way to scuffle. On the other, it provided for free range of movement.

Still. It was a _skirt._

"Back off," she growled warningly, tightly coiled for battle.

Across the room, Loki's eyes narrowed to slits as he seemed to notice her for the first time. He raked her up and down with his gaze, and she felt…well, almost violated. The back of her neck tingled.

Behind her, Thor and Peter bickered unintelligibly.

"Peter, take Thor and go." Her tone was low, even; she didn't take her eyes off of Loki. Her tone was such that Thor and Peter broke off their argument abruptly and looked to her, the former incredulous and the latter frazzled. But her order was as moveable as a morbidly obese elephant pregnant with quintuplets, and neither Thor nor Peter appeared to be willing to truly argue with the command.

She could sense Peter's hesitance. "Annie, are you sure?"

"I can handle this. _Go." _She explored her mental map of the room, plotting a course of action. There were knives there, at the bar. Those could be useful. A chair, always handy. There was her, the best weapon in the room. Yes. This would work quite well.

Loki stiffened as Peter began to wheel a protesting Thor from the room. The Trickster took one long, leonine step forward – only to backpedal, outraged, as Annie mirrored his motions.

"Did I _stutter_, Tall Dark and Creepy?" she demanded, lifting her top lip slightly and _growling_. "Let me rephrase: back the _fuck_ off. Did you hear me that time?"

He bristled, cold blue eyes snapping with barely contained rage. His voice, however, retained a melodic, velvety quality that flowed as smoothly as water over round rocks. "I will ignore that slight and spare you, _mortal_, if you bring to me the Odinson. My quarrel is with him. You would do well to withdraw your nose from the business of gods."

Annie straightened gradually. She cocked one angled brow, lips pursed as though she were contemplating his offer of clemency. A tiny smile threatened the corner of her mouth as he smirked in triumph – he obviously overestimated his own skills of persuasion.

Typical man.

He advanced to claim his prize – and quickly found himself flying backwards thanks to a blow delivered to the center of his chest.

"Sorry…" Annie picked at her nails idly and gazed at the round white crescents as if they were the most interesting and unique scientific specimens in the history of the universe. "…but no dice. Do not pass 'Go'. Do not collect two hundred dollars." She waved her hand dismissively. "Your tiff with Pantene here may not be any of my business, but his safety _is_. At the present moment, he is under my care. I hate to sound cliché, but if you want him, you'll have to go through me first. And I can promise that that will be very, very unpleasant."

He picked himself up off the floor. All pretenses of civility were gone from his countenance, and he fixed her with a glare so intense that it could surely cut through metal like a fish through water. "You would dare to challenge a god, child? You, an insignificant mortal, an ant in the scheme of the universe?" The air about him shimmered with a golden light. Armor, complete with a daunting, wicked horned helmet, began to appear on the contours of his body. "For this, I will rend the flesh from your bones while you still live. I will do unspeakable things to you until you beg, you _scream_ for mercy, mercy that I _shall not grant you_. I will make you _suffer._ You will wish that you were _dead_."

Annie regarded him with ill-concealed humor and an astounding lack of fear. Without having to look, she knew Peter and Thor had disappeared into the corridors of the tower. She loped to the bar and sat upon the marble surface, laughing. "I'm quaking in my boots." She wriggled her bare feet at him. "Come on and do your worst."

Perhaps, in hindsight, it wasn't her best idea.

O~*o~*~o*~O

"Sir."

"Not now, JARVIS." Tony beckoned to a vial of clear liquid, indicating that Bruce should hand it to him. Bruce gave a long suffering sigh and handed it over. "Bruce and I are in the middle of a scientific breakthrough, certain to change the face of science forever."

Bruce sighed again. "We're making a model volcano, Tony, I'm fairly certain this is not a monumental achievement."

Tony gasped in mock outrage. "Why, Brucie!" he exclaimed, knowing that the horrendous nickname plucked Banner's nerves. "I'm offended."

"Sir, I'm afraid I must insist. It's rather urgent."

"And I'm afraid that I might have to alter your parameters of what constitutes as important and what does not," Tony retorted, "but please, continue with your most likely trivial and not-worth-my-precious-time news report."

"I simply thought it pertinent to inform you that Miss Hellfire is currently engaging in combat with an intruder on the top floor, and Mister Parker and Mister Odinson are en route to the nearest elevator."

A blue streak that would have made even the hardiest sailor blush erupted from Tony. He and Bruce rushed from the workshop, their model volcano all but forgotten in the wake of their urgency.

O~*o~*~o*~O

She was captivating, this mortal. Perhaps that was due to the startling contrast present in every aspect of her appearance; yes, that was certainly the case. Her bone structure angled sharply, resulting in fine features and a cacophony of wicked flections. However, gentle, winsome swells and curves marked her as a woman. Her proportions were all long and slender, and yet she was at least a full head shorter than him. The tresses that tumbled down to her shoulders were neither curly nor straight, neither dark nor light, neither short nor long, but somewhere in between all of those descriptions.

All of her attributes compiled could agree on one matter, though: she was a handsome specimen, and he had no doubt that she could weave a web of seduction around any man. Mayhap she could have led him into her skillfully crafted net…were it not for her eyes. Her eyes shattered any burgeoning feelings of lust that may have begun to implant in the pit of his abdomen.

Everything about this girl was multidimensional and interesting, but her eyes were completely flat. They were a disconcertingly muddy brown color; filled with wit and wisdom indeed, yet lacking in depth. They were not the kind of eyes that one got lost in, and for Loki, that broke her spell.

Well, The Voice helped, of course. At the first hint of slight appreciation of her visage, Loki felt a brick wall slam into place in his mind.

_Sentiment! Detriment! _The Voice chastised viciously. _Do _not_ allow such base and petty matters as physical attraction cloud your judgment, fool. _

And there was also the fact that she had _dared _to hit him.

So, he lunged, but not in the manner that Thor, for example, might lunge. No, Loki's lunges were slow. Calculated. Silky. _Dangerous_. One foot crossed in front of the other, and he grinned a hungry wolf's smile. The other foot took a step. She didn't flinch, only watched him. Another step. He was only a few feet away. If he so desired, her could reach out and touch her.

One more step.

_She moved_.

She moved faster than he had ever seen a mortal moved. She moved fast enough that there was a slight possibility that she could put an Aesir to shame. She moved in the space of one blink of his eyes.

She jumped, flipping over him, twisting, twisting, like an agile cat. Before he could even turn, she was behind him and had grasped the horns of his helmet and wrenched him backwards bodily. The movement was so swift and fluid that he hardly had a chance to fight back, and she managed to send him crashing to the floor completely. The sound of his metal helmet colliding with the hard floor rattled his brain.

"You know," she contemplated, tapping his helmet, "I don't think the horns are such a good idea."

Snarling, he knocked her off her feet with a sweep of his arm and shot fluidly to his feet, newly unburdened by the heavy presence of his helm. Gungnir remained on the floor where it had fallen, for he didn't want to risk leaning over to pick it up. Instead, a dagger was in his hands in a moment, and he flung it at the girl with an unprecedented force.

_She caught it_, and threw it back at him. Stunned, he could only dodge.

_You'll have to do better than that, _The Voice spat venomously.

His features contorted in anger. _Let us see if you can handle this, child_, he thought, and felt a purr of approval from The Voice's enigmatic presence.

He threw three blades flying towards her, streaming with small trails of green sparks. Two, she dodged, but she was only that lucky, because the third found its mark.

The girl cried out in surprise and pain as the short blade pierced her abdomen with a _thunk_. She covered her mouth as she jerked the dagger from her skin. It fell from her trembling hand and hit the floor. He watched with some sort of satisfaction as she held back a shriek and doubled over. Her hand clutched at her stomach as she tried to staunch the bleeding.

If her hair had not fallen in a curtain around her face, Loki would've seen the mischievously triumphant smirk that was beginning to spread across her face.

Loki closed the distance between the two of them and took firm hold of her hair, forcefully pulling her head up so that he could look her in the eyes. _Finally, _finally, there was fear there, and he fed off of it. "Perhaps you'll think twice about trifling with gods." He cocked his head to the side, grinning mirthlessly. "That is, if I allow you to live."

"At first I was just protecting Thor," she panted, steeling against him. "Now, you've ruined my dress, and that makes it _personal_." She let her hand fall from where she cupped her abdomen, and his skin paled in surprise. The bleeding had already stopped, and the injury was almost completely sealed already. She barked in laughter once, and hit him for the second time that day.

O~*o~*~o*~O

Peter was quite convinced that once he was an old codger – if he made it that far, at least – he would be able to claim that he had "seen everything". In front of him was one more reason.

As soon as they'd exited the room that now contained Annie and Loki (and Peter would be lying if he said that he certainly did _not _feel comfy-cozy leaving his new teammate in that situation), Thor had protested loudly and vehemently. All the way down the hall. All the way down in the elevator. All the way towards his room.

"You do not understand, Son of Parker!" Thor appealed. "My brother is not well! He is ruthless! Lady Annie is not aware of what she has involved herself in!"

"I'm sure she'll be f-fine, Thor." Peter attempted to soothe, still wheeling him along.

Apparently, that wasn't cutting it for Thor.

He held his palm out. Peter heard distant crashing in the Tower coming from…behind him. He barely had time to duck as a large object zoomed through the place where he had just been standing and smacked into Thor's outstretched palm. Upon closer inspection, Peter realized that it was a hammer, hewn of a silver metal, etched with lines of runes. Offhandedly, he wondered if they were for decoration, or some other purpose. Peter didn't have much time to wonder, however, because Thor held the hammer above his head and rose from his wheelchair, buoyed by the hammer (which could apparently fly, because _that made sense_).

Thor flew down the hall at breakneck speeds, heading back from whence they had came. His leg encased in the pink cast dragged across the floor with a steady _clunk, clunk, clunk_.

An alien with a pink cast and a hammer that could make him fly…Peter's fingers itched for his camera.

O~*o~*~o*~O

Steve was the first to make it to the room where Loki and Annie battled. Instead of aiding her, though, he stood back and watched in awe, because she held her own.

When Steve had been young, girls were not in the habit of fighting. There was, of course, Peggy Carter, but even she had been more likely to fight with a gun than with her fists.

Then he had woken up in this era, and it had been disconcerting. And even though he knew Natasha Romanoff and had seen her impressive fighting skills, he still found himself constantly reverting back to his old ideals.

Annie was nothing like Natasha. She had not been trained to fight. She had not been handpicked to be an elite assassin. She was barely more than a child. Yes, Steve had seen her on the same video that everyone else had seen before they decided to accept her on to the team. But he had hardly been impressed. Steve had been the loudest voice against her joining their ranks because she was not ready yet. He had watched her on the screen and had only seen a child, lacking in skills, in training, thirsting to prove herself worthy.

Now he realized that he had seen what she wanted them all to see. Annie had held back; for what reasons, he could not fathom.

Because, as he watched her now, with new eyes, he could have thought that she was the most highly trained fighter in the country.

She twisted, flipped, practically flew, jumped, _danced_. He had never seen someone so graceful or swift in battle. Steve was almost completely sure that she could pulverize Natasha if they ever fought hand to hand. In fact, he had a feeling that she could even hold her own against him.

In that moment, Annie truly became part of the team.

O~*o~*~o*~O

Annie thanked her lucky stars that Loki had decided to storm the Tower right after she had finished eating; her healing factor was soaring through the roof. If he had attacked before she had a chance to eat, she might not have healed as fast, and that would have been very, very unfortunate.

She felt her heart clench in exhilaration as she feinted, causing a beam that he shot from his spear to scorch the floor. Annie laughed as Loki practically shrieked in anger. She darted forward, sliding across the floor until she was behind him.

Her blood pounded in her ear, a thundering percussion – battle music. Adrenaline tore through her veins like cold fire. This was _fun_; she had never fought with someone who made it a challenge. Those guys at the SHIELD complex had been as easy to beat as Tetris. People she had had to fight in the past had been easier still. But Loki…well, Loki was a Rubik's cube in comparison, and she liked that.

She jumped onto his back, clinging to the edges of his armor, and giggled as he attempted to throw her off while still holding his fancy golden spear thing. Over his shoulder, she spied the team beginning to file in with awed expressions. She freed one hand to wave, beaming.

"Hi, guys!" Annie chirped. Steve's eyes threatened to pop out of his skull. She fell backwards from Loki's back, simultaneously kicking him in the small of his back. He stumbled forwards as she jackknifed off the floor. "So you're all just going to stand there and not even _try _to help?" Her tone was light, teasing, and confident.

So of course, that was precisely when everything took a trip to hell in a handbasket.

O~*o~*~o*~O

Loki was out of breath, and that did not please him. He hadn't expected the mortal girl to be such a fierce combatant; he had not encountered an opponent of such difficulty since his days on Asgard.

Actually, that was not entirely accurate. There had been the Hulk. But the beast had been completely brute strength; there was no fight, no strategy, only a thorough _smashing_. He didn't count that. The memory made him sore, anyways; that had not been one of his most flattering moments.

He digressed, however.

_Will you allow this child to smite you where you lie? I knew you to be pathetic, but this is truly a new low. You are weak and worthless and cowardly _– no, Loki wanted to scream, I'm not – _and you've been defeated by a Midgardian child-warrior, and you dare to dissemble as a king?_

Loki's anger and vehemence surged, swimming in red before his eyes. _I was cheated of the throne! I am deserving of that title! _

_Then prove it, coward. Victory is only attained through force, so take it. Take victory. Take _her.

Take her.

Struck by sudden instinct, Loki shot upwards, swinging Gungnir as he went. The end collided with the back of her head, sending the girl sprawling. Aware of the presence of her teammates, Loki moved before any of them could act. He seized her beneath the arm and spun her around, slamming her back against his breastplate. While he held Gungnir in one hand, he locked the fingers of his other hand around her throat with a bruising pressure and _squeezed_, cutting off her struggles before they could even start. She scrabbled at his arm, but her wickedly sharp nails found no purchase against the cool metal of his vambrace.

He reached for his magic. The tendrils came readily at his command, and he sent a pulse of energy that tore through her mind like lightning. She loosed a short, sharp, strangled screech and became pliable beneath his grip. She collapsed backwards against his chest, completely stunned, and he lifted her easily into his arms. Her head lolled over his arm and she groaned low in her throat, which was ringed with a necklace of violet-but-fading bruises.

Loki looked up at her teammates. They had not moved; they knew their place. He gave a long suffering sigh, fighting the urge to smirk. "All I wanted was Thor. When you're willing to make a trade, let me know. I'll be waiting."

On that note and with his prize – his _victory _– in tow, he disappeared in a flashy exhibit of green and gold sparks.

O~*o~*~o*~O

**Well, that was a doozy of a wait. Three days turned into three weeks, and three weeks turned into three months, and now I feel like an utterly horrid person. My apologies. I kept expecting the end of the school year to get easier, but Murphy's Law. Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.**

**I was in a hurry to get this out, so it's not even edited by me. Hopefully, it's still passable.**

**I keep promising that each chapter will be faster than the last and it keeps backfiring (go figure). So I'm not going to jinx myself. But I will say that Chapter Nine is completely written. And Chapter Eight is a WIP. If that gives you an idea.**

**Make sure to follow me, **le-mischief-maker dot tumblr dot com, **for updates, for **_**sneak peeks of upcoming chapters**_**, (really. I gave out three or four from this chapter at least.) for my always open ask box, for edits, and for a myriad of other goodies. For example, an anonymous asker inquired why Annie's last name was Hellfire, and I answered.**

**Also, as aforementioned in the last chapter, I hope to give this fic a facelift soon-both for my own aesthetic appeal, and for culling and pruning the contents themselves.**

**And, finally, I have another story on my backburner that I may end up publishing soon, also Avengers themed. So watch out for that. **

**Don't forget to review! Reviews feed the hungry mind of a writer, and inspire said writer to do better.**

**With Love, Bows. **


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